Timshel
by Requests for Shriayle
Summary: Fearing for her daughter's safety, Renee takes Bella to Alaska in the hopes of helping her tame her frightful powers. But in that cold expanse of the last frontier, are they truly alone? AU: Bella moves to Forks from Alaska. Femslash. Requested and beta'd by BadAssTwilightGirls
1. Chapter 1

**After months of planning and researching, I finally feel confident enough to start posting this story. It helps that I have been in Alaska for the past few days and I have begun to pick up on the flavor of the people and attitude here, making it much easier to write the sections of the story based in Denali (where I actually visited) and such.**

**So, without further ado: Timshel, as requested by BadAssTwilightGirls.**

* * *

I felt a slight breeze drift across the somewhat tundra that I was standing in. It lifted up my hair, sending the strands floating into the air to be accented by the sun. I saw the reddish parts gleam in the light before muting back to their original brown state as the wind died down. Even my hair sparkled in the sun now, good grief.

I could see the oil rigs bobbing up and down in the distance, across the sparse field that I stood on. They were a disgusting olive green, a dirty, muddled color, not the beautiful green of the fruit that they tried to emulate. Pity that olive green was associated with this filth, not to mention the khakis that the military sometimes wore. I saw them continue their never-ending cycle of going up and down and up and down as they pumped the raw blood of the earth to the very surface. But they weren't my main focus; I was peering at them out of the corner of my eye, only nonchalantly. Rather, the spectacle in front of me was far more interesting to watch.

The blazing inferno sailed higher and higher around the scrabbling vampire, whose eyes were wide with fear and panic. He tried to leap between two flames, but a vine made of dirt and rocks suddenly reared up, grabbed him by the leg, and threw him back to the center of the flames. He tried to escape another way, preparing to jump out again. Icy missiles flew towards him, threatening to impale his diamond hard skin into the ground. The vampire whimpered as he listened to a wind suddenly kick up, whistling louder and louder until the fire was in the center of a maelstrom of wind, snarling as it sent the fire burning higher and higher as it greedily gulped down oxygen.

A voice carried over the winds: _"Do you see now, Edward? Do you see the power that I have, the power that you so stupidly disregarded as lower than your own? Do you see what I can do now?"_

"I'm sorry!" he screamed, his golden eyes rolling. His legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the ground, sobbing. He had been broken completely. Good. But not good enough, not for me. I felt a smirk tug at the sides of my mouth, my lips parting into a toothy smirk.

_"Sorry isn't going to cut it this time, Edward," _my cold voice rang out over the storm of elements, the storm that I so easily controlled with a twitch of my fingers. I watched the earthen spires curl around again like the tendrils of an anemone, waving in the wind. My icy missiles had buried themselves deep within the earthy vines I controlled, glistening like little gems before I melted them into the dirt and rocks.

The wind magnified my voice again, blowing my whispers to Edward's _(damn that name)_ ears. _"Goodbye, Edward Anthony Masen Cullen. It wasn't very nice knowing you."_

The fire suddenly somehow bent into the center of the flame, its sides still burning outwards but its tips sunk deep into the center of the circle. The oil rigs bobbed on, oblivious to the torture that was happening a mere two-hundred yards away. I raised a hand gently; the gales whipped themselves into screaming whirlwinds, drowning out the sound of Edward Cullen's screams as he burned to ash. The fire and the wind died down, and soon all was still.

Finally. Some silence.

I watched the oil rigs chug on, gleefully slurping up the blackened blood of the planet.

I smiled, and laughed to myself quietly. I carefully bit my lip, making sure that my sharp-ish teeth didn't pierce my diamond-hard skin.

Yes, it was time for life to begin, wasn't it?

* * *

_"Do you remember when you read us the sixteen verses of the fourth chapter of Genesis and we argued about them?"_

_"I do indeed. And that's a long time ago."_

_"Ten years nearly," said Lee. "Well, the story bit deeply into me and I went into it word for word. The more I thought about the story, the more profound it became to me. Then I compared the translations we have-and they were fairly close. There was one place that bothered me. The King James version says this-it is when Jehovah has asked Cain why he is angry. Jehovah says, 'If thou doest well, shalt thou not be accepted? and if thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door. And unto thee shall be his desire, and thou shalt rule over him.' It was the 'thou shalt' that struck me, because it was a promise that Cain would conquer sin." _

* * *

Edward's death was surprisingly liberating. At first, I thought it was just something that needed to be done; I had always imagined myself killing him, but not with this layer of satisfaction. His ashes now mixed with the earth and blew away in the wind. No doubt that Edward would have wanted his ashes to be made into some bullshit monument, a giant marble or something version of himself, with the ash strengthening everything and ensuring it lasted longer. The narcissistic bastard; no one wanted that except for him, and his tiny little brain just thought that everyone loved him as much as he loved himself.

The stupid faggot.

And I don't say that offensively, mind. Everyone could see his disgust towards women and his, ahem, _inclination_ for men. It was disturbing, actually. He was known as the playboy, but not among his own gender.

I originally thought I was meant to kill him. I was meant to destroy him for trying to destroy me.

* * *

_Samuel nodded. "And his children didn't do it entirely," he said._

_Lee sipped his coffee. "Then I got a copy of the American Standard Bible. It was very new then And it was different in this passage. It says, '_Do thou _rule over him.' Now this is very different. This is not a promise, it is an order. And I began to stew about it. I wondered what the original word of the original writer had been that these very different translations could be made."_

* * *

When I approached them about his destruction, they outright laughed at me. I was shocked, to put it mildly. They expected me to destroy him from the moment that they assigned me to him. They wanted me to kill him from the moment that I met him. It had been a given that I killed this vampire.

Needless to say, I was furious. What did these shitheads know about what I thought? Yes, they raised me, fine, yes, they knew me better than I knew myself, especially her, but seriously? And what was with all of the bullshit feelings that were suddenly welling up within me? They were primal, foreign, unwanted. I hadn't felt something as strongly in my entire life as I did at that single second.

I watched the oil rigs pump up the black blood buried deep under the tissue of the dirt. The inky black blood that reminded me of the blackened promise I had to make myself, that I was to do this horrendous task, that I was to kill another soul.

When did it become so acceptable to murder, anyways?

* * *

_"My old gentlemen felt that these words were very important too- 'Thou shalt' and 'Do thou.' And this was the gold from our mining: _'Thou mayest.' _'Thou mayest rule over sin.'..._

_Samuel said, "It's a fantastic story. And I've tried to follow and maybe I've missed somewhere. Why is this word so important?"_

_Lee's hand shook as he filled the delicate cups. ... "Don't you see?" he cried. "The American Standard translation _orders_ men to triumph over sin, and you can call sin ignorance. The King James translation makes a promise in 'Thou shalt,' meaning that men will surely triumph over sin. But the Hebrew word, the word _timshel_\- 'Thou mayest'- that gives a choice. It might be the most important word in the world. That says the way is open. That throws it right back on a man. For it 'Thou mayest'-it is also true that 'Thou mayest not.' Don't you see?"_

* * *

And yet, the choice was there for me to decide. To kill or not to kill, that is the question.

* * *

_"Yes, I see. I do see. But you do not believe this is divine law. Why do you feel its importance?"_

_"Ah!" said Lee. "I've wanted to tell you this for a long time. I even anticipated your questions and I'm well prepared. ... Now, there are many millions in their sects and churches who feel the order, 'Do thou,' and throw their weight into obedience. And there are millions more who feel predestination in 'Thou shalt.' Nothing they may do will interfere with what will be. But 'Thou mayest'! Why, that makes a man great, that gives him stature with the gods, for in his weakness and his filth and his murder of his brother he still has the great choice. He can choose his course and fight it though and win." Lee's voice was a chant of triumph._

_Adam said, "Do you believe that, Lee?"_

_"Yes, I do. Yes, I do. It is easy out of laziness, out of weakness, to throw oneself into the lap of deity, saying, 'I couldn't help it; the way was set.' But think of the glory of the choice! That makes a man a man. A cat has no choice, a bee must make honey. There's no godliness there."_

* * *

But it was now my choice. I have ascended. I have become. I shall. I will. I did.

* * *

_"...I take my two pipes in the afternoon, no more and no less, like the elders. And I feel that I am a man. And I feel that a man is a very important thing-maybe more important than a star. This is not theology. I have no bent toward gods. But I have a new love for that glittering instrument, the human soul. It is a lovely and unique thing in the universe. It is always attacked and never destroyed-because 'Thou mayest.' " -East of Eden, _John Steinbeck

* * *

**Some insight into the title is here as well. All of the italicized action belongs to John Steinbeck, from his rather amazingly written novel _East of Eden._  
**

**Chapters for this will be much shorter unless my muse screams at me. Updates will also be much more sporadic.**

**~Shriayle**


	2. Chapter 2

**It's been months. I apologize. I've been rather waylaid by my other stories xD**

**REPLIES:**

**unabashedlyuseless: **Hehe, that will be seen in quite a while, unfortunately. | **Guest (1): **Thanks for your opinion, good luck in finding a story you like :) | **Guest (2): **I'm sorry for making you wait D: | **Guest (3): **Maybe I'll update more this summer |D

* * *

I'm not, shall we say, a 'normal' human being. Of course, I breathe, I eat, I laugh, I cry. I smile when I'm happy and frown when I'm sad. I cry when I'm disappointed and scream when I'm mad. Hmm. That rhymed. How interesting.

I'm sure that many of you are rolling your eyes. "Yes, we know," you're probably saying, "we humans are all different in our own special way! Being weird is normal!"

I'm certain that you didn't nearly send a toy store crashing into rubble when you were four, either.

Great. Now I seem to have gotten your attention.

We were living in Washington at the time, in a small, secluded town called Forks. By we, I mean my mother Renee and I. Yes, there was a father, but I'll get to him in a bit. Anyhow, my parents had brought me to the local toy store, hoping to get a small stuffed animal to quell my need for a comfort object at night. My mother had found one immediately, a small stuffed bear with a goofy smile and vague eyes.

"How's this, Belly-boo?" she cooed (do NOT call me Belly-boo, please). She waved it to me, trying to entice me with the squishable toy. "Isn't he adorable? And so strong too! Look!" (she made it curve its arm as if it was showing off its muscles― excuse me, I meant he) "Come on, Bella, how about it?"

It was tempting to child-me. It was soft, I thought while mulling the offering over. I ran a finger down its arm. And it was made of a material that would last me through countless nights. But there was one detail about it that bothered me...

"No he," I said. "Want a girl."

My mother had blinked. "Okay, sweetie," she said once she had gotten over her surprise at my request. To be fair, it was rather ridiculous that the toy's made-up gender bothered me more than the toy itself. She began to frantically look for another toy that could be feminine enough for me.

Maybe it was bad luck. Maybe it was good fortune. Whatever it was, I glanced up and saw what I deemed 'the perfect stuffed animal' on the shelf above me. It was a white bunny, with extremely fluffy fabric serving as its 'fur' and large, black eyes that seemed to comfort me. And since all rabbits are girls (I was too young to understand gender fully), I knew that it was perfect.

"That one!" I squealed, pointing at the rabbit.

My mother followed my finger up with her eyes and saw the toy I was talking about. Pleased that I had saved her another half an hour of searching, she reached up and took the toy down, poking me on the nose with one of the rabbit's paws.

My father had taken one look at the price tag and said, "No, Bella," right to my face. No reason, no explanation, no apology. No "Bella, we can't get that one. What about this one?"

I was four. I didn't understand money or economics or what 'not affording it' meant. All I understood was that this was something that I wanted, and he was denying me the chance to get it.

"Want," I said, hoping that it would get through his skull. I knew that sometimes, you had to explain things to boys fully, and even though Daddy was a grown boy with a grown-boy mustache, he was still a boy that needed things clarified for them.

"Bella, I said no," he responded sternly. A normal parent thing to do, I'd say, looking at it in hindsight.

"Want," I said, my voice growing louder.

"Bella, what about this bunny?" my mother, bless her heart, had found another white stuffed rabbit, but it wasn't about the bunny now, it was about the principle of wanting that bunny and getting that bunny to four-year-old Bella.

"Want that one!" I said, pointing stubbornly.

"Daddy said no, sweetie," my mother tried to say. "You can have this one though. She's just as nice as the other one!" She booped my nose with that one too, but instead of giggling, I scowled at the newcomer. What did she know about this wrong that had been done to me?

I smacked it out of her hand.

Again, in hindsight, not the most polite thing to do to your parent in a public setting.

"Bella! Apologize to your mother!" my father snapped.

Something inside of me snarled at the concept of bowing to another human, even one as lovely as my mother.

"No! Want the bunny!" I screamed, beginning to wrestle out of my mother's slowly tightening grip. I managed to pull my hand free and did the entire 'stand still because they can't make you go anywhere you don't want to go' routine that all children have down pat.

"Bella! Stop making a scene and come with me, right now!" my father shouted, his face reddening with embarrassment as other patrons watched the chief of police be outwitted by his four-year-old child.

"NO! WANT. THE. BUNNY!"

"You can't get the bunny today, sweetheart," my mother said, always trying to defuse the situation. "Come on, Bella, you can sleep with Mommy again tonight, instead."

"Renee, you can't just keep letting her win! You have to put your foot down!" He turned back to me. "Young lady, we are leaving the store right now and you won't get any cookies this afternoon if you keep this behavior up!" Four-year-old me recognized the code for 'you're about to get your butt shined the second we get home' and lost it.

"NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!" I shrieked, each word increasing in size as my rage spiraled out of control. I began to jump up and down by the fourth 'no' and each time I landed on the ground, the store shook a little.

It wasn't noticeable at first. Shelves twitched a little, some boxes filled with glassy-eyed dolls fell off. Some children were mystified but happy that they got that top-shelf item they wanted. As I grew more and more upset, however, the quakes got stronger and stronger until dust was flying down from the ceiling. And I was still screaming and jumping and pretty much causing a huge scene without the literally groundbreaking part added in.

My mother grabbed my hand and ushered me out of the store, still stomping. In the parking lot, I managed to get out of her grasp again and threw myself on the ground to scream at the top of my lungs while flailing my limbs around aimlessly. Looking back, that is a moment that will always make me cringe on the inside.

Apparently the jumping wasn't all that could cause the earth to shake alongside me. I heard shouts from around me as people fell, losing their balance, and when I managed to see through my angry tears I watched pebbles leap across the dancing earth. I was at the epicenter of an earthquake, all because of a little stuffed animal that my father didn't want to admit he couldn't afford.

Finally, I calmed down, and so did the earth. My mother ran forward, scooped me up, and ran with me back to the car before I could do something even more drastic. Make a crack in the earth or something, maybe.

My father was fuming all the way home. I, on the other hand, had fallen asleep, tired out from the tantrum that I had thrown.

I woke up on a blanket on the ground, facing the wall, an argument raging around me.

"Are you serious, Renee? Why didn't you tell me before?!"

"I didn't think it would come up! It's been a family legend for generations, and it's not like it ever happened!"

"Well, what the fuck was that at the toy store then?"

"Don't talk to me like that, Charlie!" Her voice was as sharp as a needle, or maybe a syringe of some sort. "Do you have any answers? Anything that doesn't involve the supernatural?" A thick sarcasm laced her tone at the end of her sentence.

Charlie took a deep, ragged breath, one that spoke of inner rage and turmoil. "Do you really think that a stupid child's tantrum could make an earthquake like that?"

I heard my mother leap to her feet. "Don't you talk about Bella like that, either! You know, I thought it was a right decision to marry you after you got me pregnant somehow, but I guess that was a wrong choice on my part! You can't keep me here, Charlie, being your trophy wife with a perfect family that has a perfect son! Oh wait, I can't give you that at all, so you're just going to blame everything that went wrong on me?! You're a bastard, Charlie Swan, and damned if I'm staying here with you!"

A crack. A wounded cry. He had slapped her, and pretty hard from what I could tell.

"You're not going anywhere, bitch." A seething growl. "We're married. You're as good as mine. 'Til death do we part, honey." That last word didn't sound very endearing, even to terrified child-me. "And you'll bear me a son soon enough. Why do you think I wanted her," (I'm certain he was pointing at me, though I didn't dare turn around and subject myself to what was happening behind me) "out of the bedroom? You need to get to work, giving me an heir. Damned if I'm letting all of my work go to a girl who can't carry on the Swan name."

Heavy breathing. I wasn't sure if it was from my mother or that man. Even then, I couldn't think of him as my father anymore.

"I hate you," she quietly whispered, her strength coming back to her. "You are nothing to me. You only knocked me up and married me for my money, and that doesn't even go to my daughter anymore. My little girl, not yours. We're over. And guess what? If you can't buy a little girl a new stuffed animal, I guess it means you can't hire a divorce lawyer, so you can just leave that to me, thank you very much."

I was rather proud of my mother, at that moment.

I heard the sound from earlier, that same pain-filled crack, fill the room again. This time, I couldn't just lie there. Leaping up, I turned and screamed at what I saw.

My mother, my brave mother who stood up for me, was on the ground, recoiling from the hit. That man, the one that I was unfortunate enough to share DNA with, was standing over her, looking as satisfied as a cat who caught a mouse. That was all she was to him, now. A piece of meat that he could play with whenever he wanted to.

"GET AWAY FROM MY MOMMY!" I screamed, sending all of my hatred towards him. I felt the air around me burn hotter than usual as my rage filled me to my very core. I didn't see red, I saw black as the entire scene faded when I focused on that self-satisfied bastard and my defenseless mother.

I wondered why the floor wasn't shaking again until I heard a terrified scream leave the man's lungs. He was staring at me in horror. No, not me. Something behind me. I turned to see the wall covered in flames.

"You demon!" he snarled when he regained his sense of self-control. "You aren't burning down everything I own!" He raced to the kitchen, most likely for some water or something.

While he was gone, Renee was up in a flash. She had been biding her time. She grabbed her bag and my hand before running out of the house, dragging me with her. I heard the man shout after us, begin to chase us out, but I also heard the crackle of flames intensify and his steps stop as he was forced to put the flames out.

Renee jumped into the car, revved the engine, and sped out of the street all within thirty seconds. She was on the highway to Seattle by the time I realized what was happening.

"Mommy, what are we going to do?" I asked, staring glassily out of the window.

"We're leaving your father," she spat the word out like poison, "and starting over."

"Where?"

"Anywhere I can find."

After about ten minutes of silent driving: "Mommy?"

"Yes, sweetie?" Affection rolled off of her tongue as swiftly as the words that carried it.

"What's wrong with me?"

She exited the highway and drove towards the airport. I watched planes take off and land.

She sighed. "Bella, nothing is wrong with you at all. You're just a little more special than everyone else, and I'm going to have to find a way to help you control it."

"Why? Isn't special good?"

She turned and locked eyes with me. I was grateful that I inherited her hazel eyes rather than that man's doe-brown eyes. "Baby, special is the best thing you can be," she said, waiting for the red light to turn green. "But you're a kind of special can hurt other people. And that's the worst thing you can do. No matter what, you only hurt other people if you have to. If you decide that the people need to be hurt to understand what was wrong."

"Then why didn't you hurt D-" I stumbled over what to call him. "Why didn't you hurt that guy? When he hit you?"

My mother smiled brilliantly for one second before hitting the accelerator as the light flashed green. "Because we are better than him, and if he needs to use his physical power to take us down, we can just get back up and use our mental power to render him useless before even having to resort to physical power. I plan to train you in both, wherever we go." The viciousness in her tone didn't put me off, but made me think.

Make him useless with mental power. We are better than him. That idea left quite a good taste in my mouth.

* * *

**Welp, back to writing.**

**Got a request for me? Go back to my main account, 'Shriayle', and either send me a PM or leave me a request in my ask. fm. Questions about this story? Please review!**

**~Shriayle**


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